


Carry You There

by Haunted_Obsidian



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Bonding, Charles is always cold, Erik is a smartass, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Abuse, World War II, wounded Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:21:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Obsidian/pseuds/Haunted_Obsidian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik get wounded, and Charles does his best to patch him up and keep him safe. Conversation and bonding ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry You There

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the X-MFC kink meme :
> 
> Charles and Erik are in the same squad, but they don't know each other that well. Erik just thinks of Charles as that short little academic who reads too many books. But then during one battle, Erik breaks a leg or something as they're fleeing - and Charles turns around and goes back for him. Even though Charles is shorter and lighter and he's bending under Erik's weight, Charles guts it out and drags all 6 foot something of him away from all the gunfire.
> 
> The two get separated from their squad, and Charles tends to Erik's injuries. They bond and stuff before getting rescued.
> 
> http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/7634.html?thread=12383698#t12383698

Erik took a drag off of his cigarette and stared at the brown-haired kid. He knew his last name was Xavier, but that was about all. He looked to be around twenty or so, twenty-two at the most; head always in a book when they weren't dodging gunfire or explosives. He wondered what a guy like that would even be doing in a place like this. 

The kid was small, almost half a head shorter than himself, and thin as a rail. Erik could see that even through all the layers they were forced to wear because even though the rest of the world seemed to forget, France was a cold and shitty place. 

Especially in winter.

Erik pulled the standard military-issued wool coat tighter around himself and took another long drag off his smoke before extinguishing it and flicking away the butt. He exhaled slowly, the quiet voices of all the other soldiers background noise in his ears. 

“You always look so German when you're deep in thought?” Major Howlett quipped, signature cigar clenched between his teeth as he passed by the other man.

“That's a good question, Major. Tell me, do you always look so Canadian every time you open your mouth?” Erik joked back, smirk tugging up the corners of his lips. 

“Bastard,” Howlett muttered and skulked away, attending to some of the other men. 

Erik shook his head and let his gaze fall back to the brunette, who was now attempting to make his shivering as unnoticeable as possible. The kid's skin was almost as pale as the damned snow. Erik was quite curious--

Before he knew what was happening, treetops began exploding above him, the dead trunks creaking before snapping in half and falling to the forest floor. A chorus of “Take cover!” from various men in the squad barreled through the air, bark breaking and shattering before raining down upon the Company. As though the bombs weren't enough, enemy fire began to pierce through the air, a bullet whizzing straight passed Erik's head. He had almost made it to a half-dug fox hole when he felt a burning sensation in his right thigh. He fell to the snow-dusted dirt floor, laying as low as he possibly could. 

Pain engulfed the limb, and he could feel blood leaking from the wound, pooling on the earth underneath him. He clenched his jaw to avoid from crying out, because being shot fucking hurt, goddammit!

“Retreat! That's an order! Retreat!” he heard Captain Rodgers shout through the chaos. 

Erik grunted as he tried to stand, his wounded leg forcing him back to the ground. “Shit!” he cursed, trying not to panic as he saw how blood-soaked his pants leg was becoming.

“Here,” he heard a soft but firm voice cut through the pandemonium, an arm encircling his back and pulling him upwards. 

Erik looked up and over only to see the kid he'd been staring at practically all day (and the past three months at that) hurriedly tying a white cloth around the wound. His mouth opened in confusion, though no words came out. 

“C'mon, we've got to go,” Xavier said calmly, blue eyes wide and striking, and the only damned thing Erik could focus on at the moment. The taller man nodded, a grimace clouding his features as they began to move away from the commotion. 

The voices of their comrades were growing quieter and quieter as they moved, and Erik couldn't help but wonder if they were going to make it or not.

“You were a fool to help me. You should've just left me behind,” he stated through clenched teeth.

The smaller man who was clearly struggling but apparently more stubborn than a mule shook his head. “I'm sorry, my friend, but that's something I'm afraid I could not have done,” Xavier replied, pale face reddening from exertion. Erik watched as the smaller man's breath passed through his too-red lips at a fast pace, spiraling and swirling about until it dissolved into the frigid air. 

“Why?” Erik grunted out. “Because we're not—as you say—friends. You don't even know me.”

“I know that before this all started, you'd been watching me all day.” Erik almost jerked away at the comment, but as he pushed himself away from the other man, he could feel Xavier clenching at his coat and holding on for dear life, trying desperately to keep the taller man upright. “You've nothing to be ashamed of, Sergeant. I assure you. I'm just very good at noticing things, is all.”

“How comforting,” Erik muttered, feeling heat spread from his cheeks down to his throat. It wasn't exactly the perfect time to feel embarrassed, but this Xavier guy was something else. 

The pain was starting to grow worse, and the lack of blood was starting to make the larger man more woozy and light-headed that he was willing to admit. He tried his damnedest to keep the majority of his weight off of Xavier, but he could feel his feet starting to drag. 

The brunette staggered a bit under his weight, but kept his feet planted firmly on the frozen ground, tightening his grip on Erik and doing his best to keep them both upright. 

“You're stronger than you look,” Erik muttered, eyelashes aflutter. Colors and shapes were starting to mix and blend together, creating a kaleidoscope effect. He closed his eyes to avoid the headache that was starting to creep upon his skull, jaw clenching visibly underneath his skin as the pain in his leg became almost unbearable.

“There appears to be an unoccupied home up ahead about twenty meters. Do you think you can make it?” Xavier's voice cut through Erik's train of thought. 

The wounded man nodded, clinging closer to the bookish man that was still supporting almost all of his weight now, though Erik hardly noticed. If they didn't stop soon, he _was_ going to pass out. That much he was aware of. Hell, that was about the only he was aware of. 

Within a few minutes, he felt his companion come to a stop, the smaller man letting out a few grunting noises of his own before moving upwards, carefully pulling Erik along with him.

Erik let his closed eyes peer open, taking in their surroundings. They were slowly but surely (one step by agonizing step) making their way up to the porch of the house Xavier had seen before. It was a cottage-type residence, small and evidently abandoned by its previous owners. It was in a clear state of disrepair; most of the windows broken, the paint all but shaved off of its wooden beams, and there was a hole in the door the size of a canon ball. 

“Just two more,” Xavier murmured in the taller man's ear, his warm breath ghosting over Erik's flesh and sending chills down the man's spine. “There we go,” the smaller man stated, sweat beading on his pale forehead as they reached the top step. 

Erik could feel him shifting underneath of him and then watched with heavily-lidded eyes as Xavier pushed the heavy wooden door open and led them inside. The interior of the house looked almost as bad as the exterior; leaves and other various debris littered the wooden floorboards. There was still furniture left over (a tattered green couch that had seen better days and a kitchen table), but that was about it. 

“Just a few more steps,” the brunette said, gritting his teeth as Erik became dead weight in his arms. He almost fell over but managed to regain his balance at the last second, slowly but surely getting Erik over to the threadbare sofa. “Are you still with me, my fri—Erik?”

“Mmmm?” Erik mumbled, slipping into unconsciousness. 

“Erik, I'm going to have to treat your wound, alright?” Xavier said, gently tapping the older man on the cheek with his hand. “I need you to stay with me. Erik?”

“Stay...with...you...” was all Erik managed to get out before his eyes closed and darkness claimed him.

*****X****X*****

His unconscious state didn't last very long.

The excruciating pain woke him from his temporary delve into unconsciousness. 

“Oh, you're awake again?,” he heard Xavier murmur, clearly surprised. “I'm sorry, but I must extricate the bullet so this is going to be quite painful. It probably would've been better if you'd stayed out. But since you're conscious, please, bite down on this,” the brunette instructed, holding a rolled piece of cloth up to Erik's lips at which the other man insistently shook his head at. “Don't need it,” Erik grunted.

The smaller stared at him for a moment, a hint of annoyance marking his features. 

“It really would be--”

Erik shook his head once more. “Don't need it. Just get that thing out of me.”

The Private nodded in response, though made it apparent that he did not approve of his superior's decision. “If you must.”

Without further hesitation, Erik watched as the other man—using a small pair of grooming tweezers—carefully and efficiently dug into the wound. A pained grunt escaped Erik's lips, but Xavier's hands didn't falter at the noise. He, instead, continued digging until he found the metal object and pulled it out. Erik dimly registered the clinking of metal as it was set on the cracked floorboards.

Erik bit his bottom lip and let his closed eyes open. Even though his vision was still slightly blurred, he could just make out the image of the younger man carefully pulling the thread from the hem of his coat and placing it through the end of a needle. Erik let his head fall back down, and it wasn't long before he felt the metal pierce his flesh over and over again until he finally heard the thread snap as Xavier tied up the loose end.

“Rest now, my friend,” was the last thing Erik heard before he drifted back to a dreamless state.

*****X**X*****

He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but when he opened his eyes, he could tell that it was no longer daytime, not even a hint of a glow coming from the broken windows. The house was pitch black, and he waited until his eyes finally adjusted to look for Xavier. 

The smaller man was next to him on the floor, huddled up at the opposite end of the couch, knees pulled up to his chest and head lowered, resting on his knees. And he was shivering.

Badly.

That's when Erik realized that he had not one coat draped over his frame, but two, and what appeared to be a ratty, moss-eaten blanket, something probably left behind in the previous owner's wake. 

He sighed and rolled his eyes, coming to sit up even though he was in pain, though luckily not as much as before. 

The moment he moved, Xavier sat up straight, already reaching for their guns that were laid out on the floor next to him along with their helmets. 

“Hey, it's alright, kid. Just me,” Erik assured, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. 

He saw the smaller man's tense shoulders relax slightly, though even through his few layers, Erik could see how rigid his back was. 

“Everything alright?” Erik asked, clamping a hand on his wounded leg as another round of pain shot through it. 

Xavier nodded. “Yes, now. I heard some movement outside a few hours ago, but nothing since.” 

Erik rolled his eyes when he heard the smaller man's teeth chattering. “Here, I don't need it, and you obviously do--”

“No, you're wounded and you need to stay warm,” Xavier said, shaking his head. He pulled his knees closer to his chest (if that were possible), refusing the coat Erik was attempting to hand him. 

“Just mine is fine enough--” He cut himself off when he realized he didn't even know the younger man's first name. Some Sergeant he was.

“Please, the last thing you need--”

“The last thing I need is for you to freeze to death, so take it. And that's an order,” he added, knowing the younger man would have to obey. He heard the smaller man sigh, then watched as he slowly turned around to accept the offering.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered, and carefully pulled his arms through the sleeves. The coat was at least two sizes too big, and that's when Erik realized that he'd handed Xavier his own coat. The younger man realized this at just the same moment and was about to hand it back when Erik shook his head. “Just keep it for now.” He wanted to add _you look far too adorable in it anyway_ as well, but kept his mouth shut, deciding maybe now wasn't an appropriate time to hit on the younger man. Hell, if there actually _was_ one at that.

“What's your first name, kid?” Erik asked, trying to sound casual as he retrieved his pack of Marlboro's from his front shirt pocket and pulled one free from the rest of the pack. 

Xavier—who was still facing forward with his back against the couch—slowly turned to look up at the other man. An incredulous smile turned up the corners of his lips. “You mean to tell me after all this time, you don't know?”

Erik felt his face reddening and—for the first time in his life— was grateful that he was actually shadowed by darkness. “You aren't exactly the only soldier in the battalion, you do realize that, don't you?” He knew he sounded like a bit of a smartass, but it was a coping mechanism and damned if he wasn't embarrassed. Hell, he'd stared at the man and observed just about every damned thing about him, but of course, hadn't bothered to learn his first name.

“It's Charles,” the brunette murmured and faced forward once more, wrapping the coat tighter around his small frame. He was still shivering, but not as badly as before. And lighting a fire was completely out of the question. It would be like painting a large bull's eye on the front of the house so the German's would know exactly where to hit. 

Erik laid back down and lit the cigarette, inhaling the smoke and letting it stain his lungs before exhaling it back out. “You can rest. I'll keep watch,” Erik said, taking another drag off his smoke.

“I'm fine,” Xavier stated, eyes still glued to the front door. “Besides, you're the one who needs to rest. You're wounded, lest you forget.”

“Believe me,” Erik started, grimacing as he shifted his leg, “I haven't forgotten.”

Silence drifted between them like the smoke from Erik's cigarette. Finally, the older man broke it. “So, _Charles_ , tell me, what exactly, made you join the military? Forgive me for saying, but you don't exactly seem like the type with your--” he said, gesturing with his hand, smoke billowing about, “bookish demeanor.”

The smaller man was silent for a moment, head still propped upon his knees while he began to speak. “I needed to get away. And this was the best way to do it.”

Erik took in the newly-learned information, letting Charles' words settle into his brain. “You needed to get away, and this was the best way to do it?” he repeated, throwing a questioning glance Charles' way. “Care to reiterate?” 

“My family-” Charles paused to clear his throat, and Erik was pretty positive he heard the younger man's voice waver on the last word. “--My sister passed a few years ago. She was all I had left, and when she died—I decided after awhile that this was the best choice out of all my possible options.” He sniffed and the older man watched as he took a shirt sleeve to his eyes.

“Sorry to hear that,” Erik mumbled, suddenly feeling like the biggest asshole in the world. The smaller man looked sad enough the majority of the time he was awake, and Erik being Erik just assumed that it was because of his situation. But apparently, that wasn't the case.

At all.

“It's not your fault. You weren't the one who decided to take her out for a joyride when you received your acceptance letter into Oxford. And you surely weren't the one who decided to drink half the contents in your liquor cabinet beforehand either.” Charles stilled and shook his head. “I'm sorry. That was very rude of me. I-I'm sorry.”

Erik could do nothing but stare at the back of the younger man's head, a look of deep sadness etched into his eyes. He felt quite ignorant now. There was a hell of a lot more to this kid than he originally thought. And perhaps, Xavier wasn't really as kiddish as he originally assumed either. “Don't apologize. Here, take one,” Erik instructed, holding out his pack.

Charles glanced back at him, shaking his head at first, but then reluctantly taking one. “I-I don't have a light,” he said quietly, tone soft, voice barely audible, even in the silence of the empty house.

With a muted groan, Erik leaned over and cupped one hand on the side of the cigarette while lighting it with the other. “Thank you,” Charles said, nodding slightly as he took a drag, hand shaking as he pulled the cigarette away from his lips. 

“Nice gloves,” Erik quipped, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Charles held a hand up and waggled his fingers, the pale digits peeking through the fingerless gloves he was wearing. “Though it may not keep them as warm as if they were fully covered, it's quite efficient when I need to use my gun in a hurry. It keeps my finger from slipping from the trigger, and lessens any errors that may occur.”

Erik couldn't help but smile a little at Charles' explanation. He tried not to smile too wide, not wanting to scare the smaller man off. He was told (by Major Howlett, no less) that he looked like a shark when he grinned. “You are just full of surprises, you know that?” the wounded man remarked, his lips still turned upwards. 

“I'll take that as a compliment, I suppose.” Charles took another puff off his smoke and glanced up at Erik once again. “If I may dare ask, what brought you into this— _mess_?”

“With that accent you should really be fighting for the Royal British Army, shouldn't you?” Erik inquired, completely avoiding the question.

“Born and raised in Westchester, New York, thank you very much, and a nice attempt at deflection there, if I do say so myself, but I'm afraid I can't let you off so easily,” Charles replied, the smile just the tiniest bit larger on his lips.

Erik sighed and shook his head. “Fine, you got me,” he said, taking another long drag from his smoke. “I honestly had nothing better to do with my life. It was either join the marines or work in a factory for the rest of my life. I chose the former, as you can see.” He took one last puff before snubbing the butt out with his fingertips. “But, if I do make it out of here, I'll probably be in the same boat as I was before I left most likely.”

“You-You don't have any family to go back to? A girlfriend or wife, perhaps?” Charles inquired curiously.

“No,” Erik laughed. “The longest relationship I've ever had is with myself. Best not to screw up a good thing. Know what I mean?”

That comment made Charles chuckle, and the sound was nice, Erik thought. Probably the nicest thing he'd heard in a long time. Longer than he cared to remember anyway.

“Yes, actually I do,” the brunette replied, a smile still on his face, blue eyes glimmering in the dark as he finished off his cigarette as well. His expression changed, turning more serious and inquisitive. “Have you ever thought about traveling after this is all over with?”

Erik stared at him for a moment, an eyebrow quirked. “No, why do you ask?”

“Just curious, is all,” Charles replied, gaze drifting to the floor. 

“You still haven't explained that accent of yours, so fess up. And you call me a _deflector_ ,” the older man mumbled jokingly.

“My mother was from England, and...I-I eventually did make it to Oxford.” The smile was all but gone now, just a trace of it barely lifting up his top lip.

“I see. And that's why you go around reading all those _Science Weekly_ magazines and genetics books, I presume?”

Charles nodded. “Yes, I still try to keep up. Never did finish my thesis. Maybe one day.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “How's your wound?” he asked, finally, twisting to look at Erik's leg, even though it was still covered. 

“It's better, thanks. You really know your way around a needle and thread.” After the words left his lips, Erik suddenly felt stupid, because he didn't intend to make it sound as though the younger man was a great knitter or something along those lines. “I-I meant, you're quite good as patching people up. You probably could've been a medic.”

“I've had plenty of previous experience, and I wouldn't necessarily consider myself up to par with the likes of a medic,” Charles replied, downplaying his abilities.

“Previous experience, huh?” Erik muttered inquiringly. Before Charles could respond, Erik held up a hand to silence him. He was pretty good at reading between the lines, and had a good guess as to what that meant. 

“May I ask you something?” Charles queried, gaze traveling from his hands to look in the other man's eyes.

“You already have,” Erik smiled, then shook his head. “Yes, you can ask me whatever you want.” Well, maybe not _whatever_. That could lead to Erik becoming far more embarrassed than he was before.

“Why _have_ you been watching me?” And it was at that moment Erik couldn't take his eyes away from the younger man's because he was pretty sure they were currently piercing his soul. He couldn't lie, not at that moment, so he answered truthfully. “You intrigue me.”

Charles' brow raised at that, eyes wide with surprise. “I _intrigue_ you?”

“There aren't too many men out there that are reading encyclopedias while fighting a war. And...” his voice trailed off, feeling the heat return to his otherwise cool cheeks.

“And?” Charles prodded, extremely curious now. 

“You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.” There, he'd said it. He let his own eyes break away and settled on staring at the cobwebbed covered ceiling. 

Silence wafted between them until Charles' voice finally cut through the air. “You mean that?” 

Erik wasn't exactly expecting that. Definitely wasn't expecting the smaller man to sound happy let alone not disgusted. “Yes,” he answered. “I do.” Slowly, he let his gaze fall back on the younger man, the slightest hint of a smile back on his lips.

“Thank you. That-That means a lot to me,” Charles said, hiding his face by tilting his head downwards.

Erik opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get any more words out, a noise silenced him. Charles immediately reached for his gun and helmet, going to crouch over by the nearest window. After a moment, Erik watched the smaller man's shoulders relax. “It appears we've been rescued,” he said, standing up and walking back over to Erik. 

“That right?” Erik asked, sitting up.

“That's right, you two lovebirds can rest assured that your Company couldn't live without you,” Major Howlett cackled as he pushed open the front door. 

“Isn't that sweet of you?” Erik quipped as Charles helped him to stand. “Took you long enough. I bet my mother could've found us faster than you.” 

“Well, that may be true, but your mother was busy doing other things rather than trying to find you two pansies,” the Major wisecracked, laughing at his own joke. “How's the leg?” he asked, expression turning serious.

“Good enough,” Erik responded, sliding on the coat Charles had just taken off.

Howlett's only acknowledgment of the act was a raised brow. “C'mon. We gotta get out of here before the enemy sees us, so hurry your asses up.”

As the Major exited out of the door, Charles turned to Erik and whispered in his ear, “If you truly find me that intriguing, then perhaps after all this is over with, you'll come with me.”

“To where?” Erik asked, biting back down the smile that was threatening to curve his lips.

“To England. You see, there's this thesis that I have to finish...”

_fin_


End file.
